


Always Starting Over

by Blodeuwedd



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Big Bang, read the summary, there's death but there's a twist to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blodeuwedd/pseuds/Blodeuwedd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ian dies, Mickey discovers he can go back in time and save him. But what will be the cost?<br/>Butterfly Effect AU</p>
<p>Thanks Tanya for being an awesome and patient beta!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Начиная заново](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3246743) by [JuliaJulia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaJulia/pseuds/JuliaJulia), [tatianatiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatianatiana/pseuds/tatianatiana)



 

 

As far back as he can remember, Mickey has always had blackouts. He’ll be doing something, and next thing he knows, he is doing something else entirely. It’s not that he passes out, oh no; he’ll still keep on moving and talking and walking and no one will suspect a thing, except for when he’ll seem to jolt awake, asking what has happened.

He was about six the first time it happened to him. His father started beating his mother senseless for whatever reason he couldn’t remember, and Terry thought Mickey was being a brat and trying to draw attention to himself. He called him a pussy and said he’d teach him to be a man, then proceeded to spank him. The second time it happened, he was at school playing football with his classmates. When he came to his senses, he was punching one of his classmates so hard it was a miracle the boy didn’t faint. He was sent to the principal, who thought his blacking out was just an excuse to get out of trouble. From then on, Mickey never mentioned his blackouts again. They didn’t even happen much until he got older, and every time they did, Mickey simply rolled along with them, pretending nothing had happened. He never even told Ian the truth about his blackouts, even after the redhead moved in with him.

It’s been a while since he’s experienced a blackout, but it happens to him soon after he gets home. He remembers walking in and calling out to his family, checking if anyone was home. He got no response, so he called again, going further into the house and into his room. Still nothing. He shrugged, assuming no one was home yet - it was Saturday afternoon, after all, and they probably were out enjoying the warm day. He heard something, though, coming from the bathroom, and frowned. It sounded like water running. And then it hit him.

One moment he’s standing in the living room, frowning at the closed door of the bathroom, the next he’s on his knees, Ian’s wet and cold body on top of him. Ian’s pale, paler than ever, his lips turned purple and he feels like ice in Mickey’s arms. He screams, shaking Ian, hitting his face gently to try to wake him up, only then noticing the tears that are streaming down his face. He looks around frantically, taking in his surroundings - the bathtub full to the brim; the water spilling down to the floor, soaking up his jeans, slowly making its way towards the living room; the empty medicine bottle fallen on the floor, rolling around silently. He realizes his own hands are shaking as he sets Ian down, pumping his chest and blowing air into his mouth, trying desperately to revive him. Ian’s lips are cold and his body is still, but Mickey still tries, sending air into Ian’s lungs once, twice, three, four, fifty times, but still he gets no response. He tries to feel for a pulse, but there’s none, but he doesn’t give up, he can’t give up, so he tries again and again, shaking Ian’s lifeless body, until there’s nothing he can do but admit defeat as his own body shakes with loud sobs. He calls 911, informs them of the situation, but he knows it’s too late even before the ambulance arrives and the paramedics take Ian away and try to revive him. It was probably already too late the minute Mickey stepped into the house.

They take him and Mickey goes with them, feeling numb and dead himself, his body heavy and unresponsive. He wishes he’d black out now and curses the fact that he could never control when it happened. He does what he has to do, because that’s what Mickey always does in the end, but it doesn’t feel real. He feels like a spectator at a movie, just watching things happening like they’re happening to someone else and not to him. He watches as everyone cries around him, and it feels like he’s already out of tears, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, his head feeling like it’s going to explode. People ask him questions and he tries, he does his best to answer them, but everything feels surreal and out of place, and he just wants to go home already and fall onto his bed and cuddle with Ian… Ian. Wait. No. No more Ian. No more light. No more air. And mercifully, mercifully, he blacks out.

 

It’s not one of his regular blackouts this time, however. When he wakes up, he’s lying in a hospital bed. Shock, they tell him. Stress. He’d fainted and they gave him something - some drug, they say the name, but Mickey doesn’t remember, doesn’t care enough to remember. His head feels lighter, but the numbness is still there. They examine him and let him go, a prescription for more drugs in his pocket, drugs for him not to feel so much, drugs that will make him feel better, like the ones Ian takes… Used to take… Took one last time and got in a bathtub.

He crumples the prescription and throws it on the ground angrily. It’s a good feeling, anger. He likes feeling something again, so he allows it to overtake him. He feels the anger growing in him. Anger at the doctors who couldn’t save Ian, anger at his family who had left him alone, anger at Ian for abandoning him, anger at himself for not noticing that Ian was in danger. He should have seen it, should have realized it, should have gotten home sooner, should have… He feels arms around him, holding him, and it’s only then he notices the broken chairs around him. They hold him, take him away, and drug him again. This time he almost welcomes the feeling.

 

They bury Ian on Monday, the rain heavy and relentless all around them, making the soil mushy. It doesn’t do much to lift their spirits, not that a sunny day would be much better. What use can the sun be when Mickey’s personal sun is gone forever? Forever. The word hadn’t crossed his mind yet. Forever not seeing Ian again, forever not hearing his voice saying lame jokes or seeing his cocky smile. Forever not touching him or kissing him or falling asleep feeling the warmth of his body. Forever not sharing a beer or watching a movie together or hearing him talk about his plans and ideas. Forever.

He doesn’t remember going home, realizes suddenly he’s already walking through the front door, but he knows it wasn’t a blackout this time. When he tries, he can remember people talking and moving and a car that took him home. He just wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t care. He pauses in front of his bed. He doesn’t have to close his eyes to see Ian there, sitting with his back to the wall, scribbling furiously into a notebook. He looks up when Mickey arrives and smiles. Mickey smiles back, faintly. He sits on the bed and reaches out to cup Ian’s face and kiss him, but his fingers grasp only air, Ian’s image quickly fading away. A sob cuts through his body and he curls up, arms hugging his knees as he tries his best to stop hurting, stop feeling, just disappear. He shuts his eyes, invoking Ian’s face, the face he’d committed to memory so long before. The bright red hair, the faded freckles, the deep green eyes. A loud sob escapes his lips and he opens his eyes, hastily wiping away the tears on his cheeks. He remembers the other time Ian left him, and how definite it seemed back then, how miserable he had felt thinking he’d never see Ian again. He’d never thought he could feel even worse, never thought he’d get a second chance only to have Ian stripped away from him forever. He gets up and staggers to the bathroom, where he does a quick search through the magazines. It doesn’t take long for him to find it, Ian’s picture, the same one he’d looked longingly at all those months before. It’s the only one he has, and he curses himself for not having taken any others, for not having given in to Ian’s sappy moments. His trembling fingers softly trace the picture and he wonders how different things would have been if Ian had never left, if he had managed to say the words the redhead had wanted to hear back then.

His vision blurs with the tears and it’s as if the whole room is suddenly shaking, expanding and shrinking at the same time, and he can’t see, can’t breath, can only clutch Ian’s picture to his chest and close his eyes together tightly, praying for the pain to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

When he opens his eyes again, the first thing he notices is that Ian’s picture is not in his hands. Also, he’s lying down. He sits up quickly, searching around for the picture, but it’s nowhere to be seen. He sighs. He must have had a blackout again. He’s almost thankful for that. There’s something different, however, something not quite right about his room. He looks around to see the curtains are open and faint sunlight is coming through the windows. Upon further examination, he realizes some of Svetlana’s things are around the room, like when they were still sleeping in the same bed. He frowns, anger suddenly taking over. What the hell is she thinking, that just because Ian is… gone… that she’ll move back in?  He stands up, fueled by his anger, but what he hears next makes him stop dead in his tracks.

“I just came by to see you.”

Ian? That’s Ian’s voice! His breath gets caught in his chest and he runs to the hallway, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees him. It’s Ian, it really is Ian, his hair cut shorter than the last time Mickey’s seen him, a heavy coat hugging his body and a scarf around his neck. Mickey sighs. It’s a memory. It’s just his memory of that day, the day Ian left him. He must be dreaming of it. Well, if dreaming is his chance of seeing Ian again, he’ll take it.

Ian is looking at him, waiting for him to say something. What had he said that day? Oh, that’s right. He talked about the weight he’d been lifting. He looks down at his hands, but they’re empty now. He shrugs. He hears Ian scoffing and looks up to see his disappointed look. What was next? Oh, yeah.

“Get in here, I wanna show you something.” He nods in the direction of his bedroom and moves into it. “Come on, come check it out”, he repeats, knowing Ian is following him.

Once he’s inside the bedroom, however, the words seem to escape him. He can’t quite remember what he said that day, and it doesn’t really matter anyway. This is his chance to edit the past, right? He knows he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be gone, so what difference does it make?

He smiles at Ian, lighting a cigarette. “Why don’t we pick up where we left off?”

Ian smiles and shrugs. “No, thanks.”

Mickey blows out the smoke sharply and scoffs. “Hard to get’s getting me hard, Gallagher.”

He knows what Ian’s going to say, of course. How could he ever forget it? He figures it won’t hurt, it’s just a memory, it’s not a real moment. But it still cuts through his chest like a sharp knife. “Well, I’m leaving town.”

He takes another drag, exhales slowly and puts out the cigarette. “Right, the army.”

Ian looks up at that, eyes wide. “How did you know?”

“Your fucking dream, isn’t it?”

Ian just nods, looking surprised. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Well, don’t.” He doesn’t choke this time, the words coming out of his mouth clearly.

Ian frowns. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t go. You’re gonna ruin your life.”

Ian scoffs and turns around to leave. Mickey feels his heart beating faster in his chest. No, no, this can’t be happening, not again, he’s not going to let Ian leave him again.

“I mean it! The army is gonna change you, and not in a good way. You won’t like it there, you’ll have problems and you’ll leave and it’ll only cause you trouble and you won’t be the same when you come back, and in the end it’ll ruin your life!”

Ian stops at that and turns around, seeming angry and ready to shout something back, but Mickey doesn’t give him time. “Besides, I’ll miss you.” That seems to shock Ian into silence and he stares at Mickey with eyes wide and mouth gaping like a fish. “Of course I won’t admit it, because I’m fucking stupid like that, but I’ll miss you like hell, and I’ll go to the Alibi and drink until I can forget about you every day, but it won’t help, because I can’t forget about you. And I’ll pick up some random chick just because she has red hair and I want to believe that’s what I’m attracted to and not dicks, but it’s a lie and it doesn’t work, because I still can’t forget about you. And I’ll steal a picture of you from Mandy’s things  and put it on the mirror in the bathroom and I’ll try to jerk off to it, but I can’t because I’m just so fucking sad without you that I can’t even do that properly. And I’ll just mope around day in and day out until you come back, finally, but it’ll be too late, because you’ll have changed, and no matter how happy we are together, it can’t be for long because you won’t be the same anymore, you won’t be my Ian anymore.” He pauses, breathing heavily and watching Ian intently. The younger boy hasn’t moved yet, but he does then, quickly taking a step forward, grasping Mickey’s cheeks between his large hands and pressing their lips firmly together.

Mickey is taken aback for half a second before he starts kissing back, one hand holding Ian’s coat while the other encircles his waist, bringing him closer. He parts his lips and welcomes Ian’s tongue inside, sighing into the kiss. He knows this is just his imagination, but it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore. It feels real, it feels like Ian is really there, like he is really there, back in his room, back to that day somehow. Mickey doesn’t believe in time traveling or any of that supernatural shit, but right now he’d swear he’s gone back in time and this is real, this is actually happening. God, he’d give anything for it to be true. Ian tastes of mint and smells of cologne and Mickey feels his head start to spin in the best of ways. He nearly stumbles forward when Ian pulls back abruptly.

“You’re saying all this”, he starts, out of breath, “but you still married her.”

Mickey sighs. Even dream Ian insists on this bullshit. “I had no fucking choice! Jesus, why won’t you get this? Fuck! You know my dad, what do you think he’d have done? I had to!”

“No, you didn’t. You could have left, we could have left together, we still can!”

Mickey pulls back and rubs his eyes. “Ian, I… shit, it’s not that I don’t want to, okay? But… I can’t. Not now. You can’t either. Let’s wait, okay? Just… can you wait for me? Not long, I promise. Let’s just think about this and plan it right, okay? Maybe when my dad is back in jail - god knows that won’t take long. Yeah?”

Ian reaches for him again and presses their foreheads together, nodding slightly.

“Yeah”, he whispers. “Yeah, okay.”

He leans down to touch Mickey’s lips with his own again, this time less desperately, more slowly, enjoying every nibble on their lips, every touch of their tongues, every soft caress of their fingers. Please be real, Mickey silently asks the universe, please let this somehow be real. They hear the door being closed behind them and break apart to look at it.

“Shit! Mandy…”

“It’s okay.” Mickey shrugs, once more surprising Ian, who looks at him with raised eyebrows. “She would have found out sooner or later.” He pulls Ian close again, reinitiating the kiss, and it’s not long until Ian’s removing his coat and his scarf and letting them fall onto the floor. Their hands roam freely, caressing and exploring, and Mickey feels likes he’s going to burst, either from the sexual tension or from happiness, he does not know. Ian’s lips suck on his collarbone and his hands tug on Mickey’s tank top. Mickey’s pulse accelerates and he lets himself fall onto the bed, bringing Ian down with him. They undress slowly, savoring the moment, every discarded piece of clothing being replaced with several hot kisses that leave their skins burning and their hearts swollen. When he feels Ian move inside him he closes his eyes firmly to avoid spilling the tears he knows are forming behind them. He blinks them open to see Ian’s concerned face hovering above his and pulls him down for a kiss. What is he supposed to say? You were dead? You were dead, but now you’re not; you left me, but you’re still here; you were gone forever, but you’re back with me; I loved you, and I still do, and I always will. They rock together rhythmically, peppering each other with kisses, holding tight in their embraces. Ian looks at Mickey like he’s his sun and his moon and his stars and Mickey wants to laugh, because he knows his own eyes express the same feeling.

“I love you”, he murmurs against Ian’s lips, and if Ian’s grin is not enough answer, if the way he kisses him after doesn’t say it all, the way his voice trembles when he says “I love you too” is enough to bring Mickey to the verge of tears again. And he knows he’s acting like a sap, and he knows that’s supposed to make him weak, but he can’t bring himself to care. Because Ian, his Ian, his only love, his only chance of happiness in this fucked up life, has returned to him.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t want to close his eyes and fall asleep, because falling asleep in a dream would mean waking up, right? And the last thing Mickey wanted was to go back to a reality without Ian. Sleep was stronger than him though, and in the end he succumbed, falling asleep curled up on his side of the bed with Ian’s scarf between his fingers.

So of course it’s a great surprise for him to wake up exactly like that. He sits up abruptly, letting go of the scarf, which slips down to the floor. Svetlana is sleeping beside him, her clothes hanging around the bedroom, her shoes neatly placed under the chair. He rushes to the bathroom when the overwhelming need to vomit quickly reaches him and barely has time to lean over the toilet before he’s spitting out all the contents of his stomach.

What happened? What the fuck happened? More importantly, how? Is this still a dream? Because it doesn’t feel like a dream, not when he has to eat and drink and poop and sleep, but still won’t wake up. What then? Was the other… the other what? Life? Yes, was the other life he was leading a dream then? But that didn’t feel like a dream either, and it lasted way too long to be one. So what? Has he gone back in time? How? How is that even possible? Or is he out of his mind? Has Ian’s death made him so out of it he got crazy and now he’s imagining all this, imagining going back in time?

He washes his face, rubbing his eyes and trying to make some sense of everything that’s happening, but he still can’t figure this out. He’s never been one for believing in things he couldn’t see, always tried to be logical about situations, but now he’s lost, because this surely seems magical to him. The more he thinks about it, though, the stronger his headache gets, so he just swallows an aspirin and some beer, before quickly getting dressed and going out. He hasn’t checked the time, but everyone in his house was still sleeping when he left, and the sun has just started to rise in the horizon, the sky still somewhat dark above him. He knows the Gallaghers are early risers, so the time doesn’t concern him as he walks through the cold and mostly empty streets.

He knocks on the door and waits not-so-patiently for it to open, worrying his lower lip and bouncing on his heels. He’s about to knock again when the door is yanked open, revealing a disheveled Fiona.

“What do you want?”

“Ian here?”

She frowns at him, but shrugs and steps aside to let him in. “Upstairs.”

He runs up the stairs, passing Debbie on her way down, who looks over her shoulder and gives him an inquisitive look, but doesn’t comment. When he gets upstairs, Lip is entering the bathroom and he looks at him inquiringly.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

He pauses, not really knowing how to respond, but lucky for him he doesn’t have to, for Ian steps out from his room at that exact instant, wearing boxers and a worn-out tank top. Mickey lets out breath he didn’t know he was holding and smiles.

“You’re here”, he says, paying no mind to Lip, who enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Ian gets closer to him and smiles back, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, Mickey.”

You’d better not. “I know. I just…” He pushes Ian into the bedroom and closes the door behind him with his foot. He keeps pushing until the back of Ian’s legs hit the bed and Ian sits down.

“I just felt like sucking your dick”, he quickly makes up an excuse. It’s a good one too.

He kneels down between Ian’s legs and quickly pulls his boxers down, pulling out his still soft cock.

“I… Wait… Lip.”

“Gross, man! Did you just say you brother’s name? That’s disgusting!”

Ian laughs and relaxes, starting to harden as Mickey works him with his hand.

“No, I mean... Lip’s just taking a shower, he’ll be back for clothes soon.”

Mickey smiles at him wickedly. “How fast can you come?” he asks before diving in.

 

They’re sitting on the bed lazily passing a cigarette back and forth when Lip walks in again, immediately making a disgusted face.

“Ugh! Tell me you didn’t!”

Ian looks sheepish, but Mickey simply exhales the smoke slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Come on, Ian, I’m hungry.” He gets up and walks out the door, leaving Ian to walk behind him, following him down the stairs.

He gets a mug from the cupboard and pours some hot coffee that someone, probably Fiona, has just prepared. He passes it to Ian, who takes it with a surprised smile and a murmured thanks. He then pours another mug for himself and goes to sit next to Ian by table. The other Gallaghers all freeze and look at him for about three seconds, before returning to their usual chatter. Ian’s grin is so bright that Mickey feels like it might blind him, so he kicks his shin under the table. Ian bites his lip and attempts to hide his smile behind his mug.

From that morning on, Mickey becomes a bit of a regular at the Gallagher house. At first it’s just once in a while, when he’s able to escape his father’s watch and his wife’s questions. But when Terry is once more hauled off to prison, Mickey throws caution to the wind and visits Ian at every possible opportunity, wasting no time in sleeping next to him on his small bed. It feels like old times - or future times? He still can’t make sense of what’s happened or how, but he’s decided to take it. Whatever happened, the universe is giving him another chance at happiness and he’ll be damned if he’s not grabbing it. He pretty much moves in with the Gallaghers, spending his nights there and sometimes his mornings and afternoons as well. Ian is beside himself with happiness, no longer angry about the wedding, now that he has Mickey to himself every day. He sometimes asks Mickey to go back to work in the Kash&Grab, but Mickey refuses to. That place is clearly bad luck. He remembers the rub n’ tug above the Alibi, but decides against it. That thing was more trouble than it was worth. Instead he goes back to just dealing drugs and doing the occasional run. Ian complains a bit, insists that Mickey needs a proper job, but Mickey just shrugs - he’ll deal with that later.

When the baby is born, Mandy goes to the Gallaghers’ to tell him, and she doesn’t even have to say it. The moment she’s through the door he knows what it is about. He also remembers that Mandy has started dating that jerk Kenyatta, and that he has to ask Ian to talk to her about dumping him before that guy hurts her. If this is his new chance of happiness, it might be his sister’s as well.

He ignores the baby, though, even when Svetlana comes marching into the Gallaghers’ threatening him. He spares the baby a quick look and wonders if there’s any life in which he can love the kid. He doubts it. He pulls a string of hair from the baby’s head and he cries, but he was already crying anyway, so Mickey doesn’t feel very guilty.

“The fuck you doing?” Svetlana demands angrily.

Mickey just smiles at her as he reaches into his pocket and puts the small string of hair into his wallet.

“Something to remember my son by,” he answers smugly. Svetlana shakes her head and turns to leave. “You crazy!”

“Yeah, bitch, leave! And do us both a favor and don’t come back!”

 

A few days later, when he gets the result of the DNA test, he’s surprised to see that the baby isn’t really his. He thought it would be. He hoped, of course, that he wasn’t, hence the test, but thought the chance was slim. Well, turns out his hunch was right.

When he bursts into the Milkovich house, the first thing he sees is Kenyatta sitting by the table while Mandy cooks him lunch. Unfortunately for Kenyatta, Mickey’s not in a good mood. He quickly grabs the pocket knife he always carries and locks his left arm around Kenyatta’s neck, touching it with the tip of the knife on his right hand.

“Mickey!” Mandy takes a step toward him, but he only has to glare at her to make her take that step back and stand still.

“You listen to me, you fucker”, he addresses Kenyatta, who has his eyes wide. “You hurt my sister in any way and you’re a dead man! And I don’t mean I’m going to put a bullet through your head; oh no. I’m going to punch you in the guts, kick you in the face, cut off your dick and leave you bleeding until you die. And don’t worry - if I’m not available, my brothers can do an even better job than me. So don’t.hurt.her. Got it?”

He lets go of Kenyatta, who nods and looks as scared as Mickey wanted him to be, and turns to his sister. “Where’s the bitch?”

Before Mandy has time to respond, he hears Svetlana’s voice from behind him.

“Here”, she answers from the bedroom doorway, the baby in her arms.

“Great, you’re here!” He takes the few steps needed to get closer to her, and he almost wants to praise her, because she doesn’t even blink.

“You listen to me, and you listen closely,” he starts, his voice lower and even more menacing than before. “Because I won’t repeat it. You’re going to shut up about me and Ian, and you’re going to stop threatening me and asking me for money for a baby that’s not even mine - yeah, I did a fucking DNA test. And you’re also going to sign divorce papers. In return, I’ll let you stay in this house so you won’t be out in the cold with a baby, and I won’t go to the cops and tell them about the illegal commie who’s working as a whore. So unless you want to go back to wherever the hell you came from and have your baby taken from you, shut the fuck up and play nice. Deal?”

Svetlana is nothing if not determined, but she’s also smart enough to know when she’s lost. Not that Mickey really intended to call the cops on her, but she doesn’t have to know that. She gives him a cold stare, but nods. “You gotta give me money for baby. I have nothing.”

“Not my problem!” He turns and rushes out the door, slamming it behind him.

 

“You still thinking of going to the Army?” Mickey asks one day, when he’s feeling bold. He and Ian are lying together on Ian’s bed, limbs entangled in the small space.

“Marines,” Ian corrects him, fingers lightly stroking Mickey’s hair.

“Same shit.”

Ian gives him a small smile. “Why? You don’t want me to go?”

“Didn’t say that,” he answers defensively. “It was just a question. You wanna go, go; see if I care.”

Ian looks down at their joined bodies, a sad look on his face, and Mickey almost wants to groan. Sometimes Ian seems to know him inside out, to be able to read him better than anyone. Still sometimes it’s like he has no idea what’s going on Mickey’s head. The idea that Ian actually believes his words about not caring is at the very least laughable.

Mickey sighs and lightly pinches Ian’s waist, making him squirm away and smile briefly. Ian looks up and they lock eyes.

“Don’t be stupid. You know I don’t want you to go. I already told you what’s going to happen, didn’t I? And I don’t want all that to happen.”

Ian’s smile grows and he brushes his nose against Mickey’s. “I know. It’s just… All my life , that was the plan, you know? I mean, what I actually wanted was to get into West Point, but since that’s not going to happen, I figured at least the Marines. I can’t go to college, I’m not like Lip, I’d never get a scholarship. So… What now? It’s like for the first time in my life I don’t have a plan to get out of here, and that’s…” He sighs. “Confusing.”

“We can make a plan,” Mickey answers softly, fingers tenderly running up and down Ian’s forearm. “Together.”

Ian grins broadly and closes the space between them, kissing Mickey fervently.

“You mean it?” he whispers against Mickey’s lips when they come up for air. “You’d leave with me?”

“Why, ‘cause I got so much going for me here?” He smirks, then sobers up when he sees how serious Ian’s face is. “Ian, where I am doesn’t matter to me, ok? As long as you’re there, I’m happy.”

The kiss he gets in return assures him that he’s made the right choice.


	4. Chapter 4

Mickey watches Ian for any signs of bipolar disorder, but nothing seems to come up. He doesn’t appear depressed, is not in bed or lacking motivation for anything. He’s not manic either, not rambling nonstop about grand projects or unable to focus. He just seems like the old Ian, like nothing’s changed, so Mickey starts relaxing. Maybe this time will be different and they won’t have to deal with that. At least he hopes so.

When he gives Svetlana the divorce papers, she looks like she’s about to murder him, but she signs anyway. She also informs him that the his father is getting out of jail, his uncles having already set off to pick him up. She’s going to tell him everything, she says, about how he spends all day with with carrot boy. Mickey just shrugs, feigning indifference, but his insides have turned cold. He leaves the house and braces himself for the inevitable.

When he arrives at the Gallaghers’, Ian’s sitting by the table studying. He looks up at the sound of the door closing and smiles broadly when he sees it’s Mickey. It feels like a weight has been lifted off Mickey’s shoulders and he sighs, marvelling on the relaxing effect Ian seems to have upon him. He throws the papers on the table and watches as Ian’s eyes widen when he realizes what they are. He sits opposite Ian, smiling.

“It never really meant anything to me, but I know it did to you, so… There. It’s over now. Officially.”

Ian runs his fingertips over the rim of the paper. “We can leave now. Make our lives somewhere else without having to worry.” He has his eyes fixed on the paper and a small smile on the corner of his lips while he says that, like his mind is imagining all the wonders they can do now.

“You gotta finish high school first,” Mickey corrects him sternly. “We’ve talked about this.”

Ian smiles sheepishly. “I know, I know, gotta support your lazy ass.” He leans over the table, still smiling. “You’re gonna be my kept boy.” He laughs when Mickey kicks him under the table.

“There’s just one more thing I got to do,” Mickey adds, sobering up.

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see. Come with me? I kinda need you there for this.” He stands up and Ian does too, frowning.

“Where are we going? What is it that you need to do?”

“Stop lying.”

 

“The Alibi? Really?” Ian rolls his eyes as they enter the local bar.

“Relax. Just wait and you’ll see.” Mickey scans the people at the bar, but sees only the regulars. He sits on a stool and motions for Ian to sit next to him. “Hey, Kevin! Two beers, please.”

Kevin approaches them with a sly smile and leans his elbows on the counter.

“Can I see your IDs, gentlemen?”

Both Mickey and Ian give him the finger. Kevin nods.

“Great, thanks.”

He taps his fingers on the counter and rocks his legs up and down while he drinks, apprehension getting the best of him. Ian puts a hand on his shoulder and he relaxes, turning to his boyfriend and giving him a small smile.

It’s right then that the door bursts open to reveal Terry Milkovich himself, escorted by two of Mickey’s uncles.

“I’m back, motherfuckers!” he bellows, to the cheers of a few of the patrons, and the fearful eyes of others. He sees Mickey then, and immediately afterwards, sees Ian sitting beside him.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me!”

Mickey stands up, feeling the weight of Ian’s eyes on him, the sensation of the pressure of Ian’s hand lingering on his shoulder.

“Listen up, everyone!” he shouts, drawing the attention of most of the patrons.

“I said listen up, bitches! This shit’s important!” he shouts again, this time effectively earning everyone’s attention. “This is my pops!” he points at Terry, who looks about ready to murder him. He gulps down his fear and continues. “He just got out of the can! There’s one problem, though. Pops is mad at me. Aren’t you, dad?”

“Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch.”

Mickey laughs, adrenaline starting to pump fast into his veins. “Come on, dad! Don’t be a spoil sport. They want to know it, don’t you guys?”

Nobody answers; no one dares to.

“You see, the reason why he’s mad at me, is because I’m gay!” he shouts again, even louder than before. “Yeah, that’s right! I like dick!” He enunciates every word slowly, opening his arms in mock surrender. “There, now everybody knows it!” He turns back to Terry and sneers. “What you gonna do about it, dad?”

He barely feels the punch, and it’s merely a second later that Ian’s there to defend him, sending Terry flying onto the ground. It turns into a full brawl after that, with punches flying here and there, and it’s not long until they’re hearing the sirens of the police. They haul Terry away again, complaining about how he’d been released only one hour before. A new record for him, Mickey thinks. Lucky for Mickey, Carlos’ husband is already on duty, and lets him go with only a warning.

His face is covered in blood and his body aches all over, but when Ian looks at him, he can’t help the large smile that spreads over his face. Free. Finally.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a warm summer day and Ian won’t stop complaining about the hot as hell robes and the stupid hat they made him wear. Fiona tells him to shut up and suck it up, because he’s the first Gallagher to have a proper graduation, and there’s no way he’s not wearing all of that. And yes, there’ll be pictures. Many pictures.

Ian rolls his eyes, but can’t disguise how happy he is as well. He takes Mickey’s hand in his and Mickey tenses for all of a second before relaxing into the touch. He’s out now. It’s okay. He looks up to see Mandy eyeing their joined hands and uses his other hand to give her the finger. She grins back at him and he chuckles. She’s ditched Kenyatta, thankfully, and won’t stop looking at Lip and this weird rich girl he’s brought along. Mickey wishes she could see what a douche Lip is and get over him already, but he knows things are not that simple - look at how many times he tried to pretend Ian didn’t matter to him and how completely futile those attempts were.

It’s Mandy’s graduation day as well, so their brothers are there along with the Gallaghers (except for Tony, who’s in jail). Colin has even brought a girl along, though Mickey has no idea where he found her. Svetlana is also there, baby in her arms. Despite his threats, Mickey had gone back on his words and decided to help with the baby, giving her some money every now and then. Well, he was forced by Ian and his big heart, but still…

The ceremony is long and tedious and Mickey almost falls asleep listening to the endless speeches, but it’s worth it for the smiles on Ian’s and Mandy’s faces alone. They celebrate like they always do, with a lot of booze and more than a few choices of drugs. Ian’s nearly bouncing with joy, a huge grin on his face.

“I made it!” he shouts at Mickey over the loud music playing on their old radio, visibly inebriated. “I can’t believe I made it! Can you believe I made it, Mick?” he gets closer, putting his arms around Mickey’s neck and speaking very fast. “ I graduated! I finished school! I can get a better job now, something that pays a bit more, and we’ll get out of here, you and me, we’ll get out of here together. Together, right? That’s what you said, you said together. And - oh my god, Mickey! We’ll move to another city, maybe Detroit or Milwaukee. Or Detroit! No, I know! Let’s go to New York! No no no, better yet: let’s go to San Francisco! It’s a very gay-friendly city, you know? And it’s far, so we’ll be super, super far and your father will never get to you again,” he gets more serious then, whispering the last words.

Mickey shakes his head. “Yeah, let’s do that. When you’re sober”.

Ian grins and leans over to kiss him and Mickey smiles into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of being loved, the idea that someone as wonderful as Ian wants to spend the rest of his life with him. Which is just as great, because Mickey also plans to be with Ian forever.

They hear loud catcalls and wolf whistles and some throats being cleared and break apart, blushing but still smiling. Their families and friends can tease them all they want, but nothing’s ruining their happiness.

 

They move out on a cloudy and humid Tuesday merely three weeks later, taking with them only their backpacks with some clothes, a few weapons (because there’s no way Mickey’s going around unprotected), whatever money they’d managed to save that’ll get them by for a few weeks, and blessings and good wishes from their families. It’s Cincinatti that they choose in the end - far enough that they won’t be easily found by Terry (whenever he leaves jail again and assuming he’ll even bother with them), yet not so far that they will take too long to go back if they need to. They don’t tell anyone at first, however, waiting to see how they like the city. There’s still a chance they’ll be moving again, after all, since they are free to go whenever they please.

They end up liking the city a lot. It doesn’t take long for them to find an apartment to rent, even if it’s really small. It’s actually a lot cleaner than Mickey expected, and way cheaper than it would cost them in Chicago, so he’s not complaining. Despite his own predictions on the contrary, Mickey is the first one to find a job, helping out in a construction site. He works long hours and the pay isn’t much, but it’s enough for now, so he is happy, and it’s legal, so Ian’s happy.

Ian, however, can’t seem to find anything, even though he leaves the house early in the morning every day looking for an opportunity. He starts making all sort of plans to make some money, from volunteering to trim the hedges of random houses to writing a novel. He tells Mickey all about them during their dinners, and it worries Mickey a little when each day there seems to be a new plan. He doesn’t make much of them on the first days, but soon he notices that Ian is acting manic again. He makes up excuses on his own head, tries to come up with reasonable explanations for Ian’s erratic behavior: he’s worried about not having a job, stressed about them being short on money, missing his family, restless with all the energy accumulated from not actually doing anything. They work for a while, and he convinces himself that everything will be okay.

As it turns out, things are not okay; not at all. One day Mickey gets home to a silent and dark apartment, which is so strange that he actually thinks Ian isn’t home. But when he turns on the lights, he hears a long moan coming from the couch, and when he turns to see it, all he can recognize is a great mass covered by a blanket. He feels like  he’s dropping out of the sky without a parachute, just falling aimlessly and with no control. His insides turn to ice and he stands rooted on the spot as he tries to control his racing heart. Slowly, step by step, he approaches the couch and kneels down next to it. He ventures pulling up the blanket, and Ian groans again and shuts his eyes tightly.

“Ian? I’m home.”

Ian blinks his eyes open, but turns around on the couch, facing away from Mickey. It feels like a knife to his heart.

“Ian? Are you sick or something?”

“Go away,” is the answer he gets, mumbled against the blanket.

No. No way. There’s absolutely no way Mickey is letting this happen again. This is not why he was given a second chance, not why God, or Buddha or Zeus or whoever it was decided he deserved to go back and try again. He’s making it right this time. He has to.

Mickey knows he can’t wait too long to get Ian started on a treatment, but he also knows he can’t force Ian into one, so he’ll have to wait and pray that he gets better enough to accept that he needs help. He calls in sick the next day and stays with Ian, and also the next one, and then it’s a weekend, so Mickey doesn’t have to worry. But soon enough the weekend is over and Ian is still barely moving and still refusing his company. Mickey is torn and confused, not knowing what to do next. On one hand, Ian needs him to stay with him, not to mention it might be dangerous to leave him unattended. On the other hand, if he doesn’t go to work, he’ll be fired, and they need the money, will need it even more if they have to start buying meds for Ian. So he goes, heart heavy and worried, but not before safely locking away all the guns and knives in the house, as well as the one medicine bottle they possess. It doesn’t stop him from worrying, however, and all day his mind is on Ian and whether or not he’s safe in the house. He can barely do his job right, and gets yelled at a couple of times.

When he gets home, Ian is sitting on the couch, blanket still around him, but not so tightly anymore. He has a glass of water in his hand and his eyes are fixed on the small screen of the old TV they own. He shifts his eyes to Mickey and a pained look crosses his features, but he doesn't look away. Mickey breathes out a sigh of relief. Ian seems better, and any improvement is a great achievement for him. He makes them dinner, just some toast and scrambled eggs with bacon, and Ian only eats the toast, but Mickey celebrates silently anyway. At least he’s eating something.

The next day, when he goes to work, he leaves Ian still sleeping and any potentially harmful items still locked away. He’s still worried, but not as much as before. Which is why what happens later is such a shock to him.

He remembers locking the door behind him, and turning on the lights in the living room, and then darkness. The blackouts that seemed to be gone forever are back, and maybe that weird doctor his mother took him to in secret when he was little was right, and his blackouts really are stress-related, because they definitely seem to happen when he’s dealing with something traumatic. However, the level of his traumatic situations seems to have risen drastically in the latest occasions.

When he comes to, he’s sitting curled up on his bed, his left  hand is clutching a piece of paper, while his right one punches the bed. Tears as flowing down his cheeks, there’s snot running down his nose and his body is shaking. He looks at the paper in his hand with confusion and opens it, reading the single word writing within the wrinkled lines.

SORRY

He looks up then, and notices the chair knocked down to the ground, the shoelaces tied together fallen beside it, and the feet dangling from the side of the bed next to him. His eyes slowly move up the figure lying there, dreading what he'll see, but already knowing what it'll be. He lets out a strangled sob when he gets to Ian’s pale face and his unmoving chest. Something seems to break deep inside of him and he screams, clutching onto Ian’s lifeless body. The shoelaces! How could he forget the fucking shoelaces? How did this happen? Ian seemed better, he seemed okay. This was not supposed to happen, it can’t be happening, he can’t be going through this hell again.

He screams and screams until his throat feels dry and his body seems to have no more tears left. He can hear someone pounding loudly on the front door, but he has no energy left to move and open it. They can tear it down for all he cares.

How could this happen again? How could his life have been so cursed? He presses his forehead against Ian’s as the tears fill his eyes again and his vision blurs. The room starts shaking, getting wider and narrower and it feels like he’s falling through a tunnel which at times is too small for him, getting compressed and stretched over and over, but he knows what it is this time, and he welcomes it and prays that he can save Ian this time.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Mickey notices is that he’s warm, too warm. The second thing he realizes is that there’s something lying heavily across his chest. He opens his eyes and immediately squints them against the sunlight streaming through his windows. He raises his head slightly to look down at his stomach and sees a freckled arm draped across it. And then it hits him.

The memory of what happened strikes him like a bomb, the sudden vision of Ian’s still body and the sharp pain in his chest making him gasp for air. He sits up abruptly and the body next to him stirs and turns, mumbling softly in his sleep. Mickey can’t help the tears that quickly fill his eyes when he sees Ian sleeping soundly next to him.

It’s happened again. He went back in time somehow, and he couldn’t give a shit as to the how anymore, and maybe he actually is crazy, but he doesn’t care. If crazy means he can save Ian, he can bring Ian live and safe back to him, then he’ll take crazy any day.

He wipes his tears with the back of his hand. Damn, he’s turning into such a sap. A while ago, he would have been really angry about that, and blamed Ian for making him weak. But now he knows Ian makes him stronger, and a few tears are normal in people who know love. And now he knows love. He knows how it feels to love someone so much it feels like a part of you is missing when he’s not around, and he knows what it feels like to be loved by someone and to feel safe and comfortable around that person. He knows all that, and all thanks to one tall, sexy, kind and generous redhead.

He strokes his fingers gently across Ian’s short hair, and it’s only then he notices. Ian’s hair is short. Very short. Shorter than Mickey has seen in a very long time. How much did he actually go back in time?

He looks around the bedroom for clues, but it looks the same as always, with the addition of Ian’s clothes scattered across the floor. He stands up, puts on his boxers and cautiously opens the door. There doesn’t seem to be anyone up yet. He steps into the living room, seeing yet more clothes and shoes on the ground, an empty tray and some empty bottles of beer, and the DVD case for Under Siege. Under Siege... Shit!

He remembers very well when it was that he watched Under Siege with Ian; it was on the first night they spent by themselves in the Milkovich house, the time Mickey invited Ian along and vehemently denied that it was a sleepover, the night before one of the worst mornings in Mickey’s life (and that was a very high bar).

He quickly picks up the shoes and clothes from the ground and runs back into the bedroom. If it is that morning, there are a couple more things he can fix as well. He shakes Ian, calling his name. The younger boy groans and yawns, stretching his long limbs.

“What time is it?” he asks, voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Time for you to go!” Mickey answers, throwing his shirt at him. “Come on, get your shit.”

Ian sits up in bed, looking disappointed. “There’s no need to throw me out this fast. If you didn’t want me here, why did you invite me then?”

He’s nearly pouting and Mickey sighs. Time for diplomacy.

“I wanted you here Ian, I still do, but my dad could be home at any minute, so you’ve got to go.”

“You said Terry was out with your brothers.”

“Hum… yeah, right. He is. But what if something goes wrong and they come back earlier? He’s going to… I don’t even want to think about it. Just get your stuff and go, ok? I’ll meet you at the Kash&Grab soon, I promise.”

Ian still looks put out, but he does as he’s told, quickly getting dressed and putting on his shoes. When he stands and grabs his backpack, Mickey’s already dressed as well, quickly fixing the mess in the living room.

“So… I’m going…” Ian says, lingering by the door, eyes on the floor.

Mickey rolls his eyes at his obviousness. He closes the distance between them and presses Ian against the front door, giving him a goodbye peck that quickly turns into more as Ian wraps his arms around Mickey and brings him closer.

Mickey reluctantly breaks the kiss and pushes him away.

“Go,” he whispers against Ian’s lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

Ian leans over for one last kiss and leaves, smiling broadly. Mickey grins back at him and closes the door behind him with a huge sigh of relief.

He rapidly finishes cleaning up the living room and the kitchen, making sure to get rid of any possible clue that there was someone else with him last night. Finally, he throws himself on his bed, exhausted with the rush of adrenaline.

His head has barely hit the pillow when he hears the front door being opened. He’s quickly on his feet again, and walks over to the living room just as Terry is walking in.

“Dad!” he says, as though he had no idea he was coming. “You’re early. Something wrong?”

“Your brothers are idiots!” Terry shouts, visibly irritated. “Forgot half the stuff we needed and I had to drive back in the middle of the night for it.”

“Oh. Shitheads.”

“You should come along. It would do you some good, toughen you up. And I could use the extra man.”

Mickey quickly shakes his head. “I can’t dad, you know it. Still on probation. Gotta go to work and all that, or they’ll report my ass and send me back to juvie.”

“Right. Bunch of faggots!”

“Yeah. It sucks. Well, gotta go. Later, pops!”

He leaves before Terry has the chance to say anything else, and nearly runs to the Kash and Grab. When he gets there he’s sweating under the already hot sun of the morning, his breath labored with the rush of running and of almost being caught.

Ian looks up from behind the counter and smiles when he sees him. There’s a fat woman in front of the fridge and a tall guy walking slowly down the first aisle, but neither of them seem to notice when he arrives.

“That was fast!” Ian raises an eyebrow at him. It’s only then that he takes in the state of Mickey and the look in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“My dad,” he says, as means of explanation, leaning against the counter. “Less than ten minutes after you left.”

Ian’s eyes widen. “Shit!”

Mickey only nods back at him.

“Jesus, that was lucky! Wow! It was a good thing that you told me to leave. It’s like you knew… Hey, Mickey, are you psychic?”

Mickey gives him the finger. “You got any smokes? I left in a hurry and didn’t bring any. And my shift doesn’t start for another…” He glances quickly at the clock on the wall. “... twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, sure.” He gives Mickey his pack and a lighter. “Have you eaten anything?”

When Mickey shakes his head, Ian gets a donut from the window beside him and gives him.

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Won’t Linda be mad?”

Ian shrugs. “I’ll pay for it. After all, you paid for dinner yesterday.”

Mickey blushes and shakes his head. “Dork.”

Ian smiles, but sobers up when the woman who was in front of the fridge earlier approaches, clearly having made her choice. Mickey turns and leaves through the front door again to eat his breakfast and have his smoke outside.

It’s only once his heart has calmed down that he allows himself a mental pat on the back. This time he’ll make things right. He has to.


	7. Chapter 7

He starts by keeping his job at the Kash and Grab, even though he was never a big fan of it. But a job is a job, and he knows life is much more difficult without one. He also decides to go back to school, which is a bit more difficult to juggle with his job, and eventually makes his wages less, but he knows it’s worth it. It’s a pain, though, since he has to take most of his classes again from the beginning, but Mandy and Ian help him a lot and encourage him not to give up. Terry and his brothers, on the other hand, insist that he’s stupid and that he’s wasting his time and should be doing heists with them instead of trying something that will never work. Every time he hears that, it makes him even more convinced that he’s on the right path.

He hangs out with Ian a lot, at the store and outside. He’s no longer afraid to be seen next to the redhead, although they’re always careful not to show that they’re more than just friends. They also stop having sex at the store and start looking for more secluded places, as well as locking doors. Sometimes they take advantage of the Gallaghers or the Milkoviches being out, but that’s so rare that they can’t count on it much.

Mickey starts hanging out at the Gallaghers’ house a lot, and at first it raises a few eyebrows, but it isn’t long until they’re all used to his presence. So when he sleeps there for the first time, cuddled up with Ian in his small bed, no one says a word about it, and Mickey knows he can trust them not to spread the word.

And when he gets home and Mandy asks him where he slept, he has half a mind to just tell her, but his brothers wolf-whistle, and his father proudly chants “That’s my boy!”, so Mickey just shuts up and flips them all off. He has a job, he’s studying to try his chance at a better future, and, most importantly, he has Ian by his side. His life is as close as it gets to being perfect. It gets even better when the police knock on their door and take Terry away. It’s like he can suddenly breath again and the feeling of being free washes over him. Still, he knows he’s got to be careful.

One Sunday afternoon, when Mickey believes no one will he home, he takes Ian there. The Gallaghers’ place is too full for privacy, and it’s now too cold to be out in the abandoned building where they usually meet. When he opens the door, laughing at something Ian has said, his eyes meet Mandy’s and he freezes immediately. She’s sitting on the couch, the TV on some shitty reality show, but she smiles and stands up as soon as she sees Ian.

“Ian!” she says, running to give him a hug. He hugs her back and spins her around while Mickey sheds his coat.

“I barely see you anymore!” she complains, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder when he sets her down.

Ian gives her a sideways smile. “Been busy.”

She raises her eyebrows and looks at Mickey, who’s passed by her and is sitting on the couch. “Not for my brother,” she singsongs, clearly jealous.

“We’ve become friends.”

“Yeah, I see. And just how did that happen?” Mandy asks, looking between the two of them.

“We work together,” Ian answers, when Mickey seems to be too focused on the TV. “It was either befriend Mickey or murder him.”

Mandy laughs at that and seems satisfied with the explanation, and Mickey, who’s been listening and trying to figure out what to do, relaxes. He realizes, however, that he feels a little disappointed. He was kind of hoping Mandy would find out. Maybe it’s because he’s tired of hiding, maybe it’s because she’s the one closest to him, maybe it’s because he just needs to tell someone; he doesn’t know. All he knows is that at that moment, he feels like it’s wrong not to tell her.

“It’s more than that, really,” he blurts out, grabbing the attention of the other two. “We’ve been dating.”

It’s hard to tell who’s more shocked with the confession, two pairs of eyes wide with surprise.

“Well, kind of,” he goes on, when no one says anything. “More like fucking, really. Although, we’ve actually been hanging out a lot lately, right? But there’s still a lot of fucking.” He says it all nonchalantly, as if his heart wasn’t racing and his palms weren’t sweaty. When none of them seemed to have recovered yet, he continues. “It started a couple of years ago, I guess, and it’s been on and off ever since - well, off because I went to juvie twice. And it was really just sex at first, but… Recently we’ve started to talk more and just do stuff together, and I go to the Gallaghers’ a lot, so I guess it’s more now, isn’t it?”

Having finished his speech, he looks at them expectantly, waiting for them to process everything he’s just said. Ian’s looking at him with a dopey smile and shiny eyes, so he doesn’t see Mandy’s slap coming until it’s too late.

“Ow!” he shouts, palm against his bruised cheek. “What the fuck, Mandy?”

“You’ve been screwing my brother? My brother? And you!” she turns quickly, facing Mickey, who holds his hands in front of him in defense. “You’ve been fucking my best friend? And none of you had the decency to tell me?”

“Keep your voice down, bitch!” he yells back at her. He was fine with her knowing, but he’s not keen on the whole neighborhood listening.

She looks between them and points her finger at them. “You’d better treat each other right! Or I swear I’ll kill both of you!”

Mickey rolls his eyes and Ian snorts. They look at each other and grin widely, keeping their gazes fixed on each other for a few seconds, clearly more than Mandy wished.

“Ugh! You two are in love, aren’t you?”

“No,” Ian says, still grinning.

Mickey confirms. “Not at all.”

The looks on their faces make it pretty clear that they’re lying.

 

After that Ian comes around more often, since they don’t have to hide from Mandy anymore, and his brothers are too dumb to notice it’s in Mickey’s bedroom he stays when he spends the night. They sleep together more often than not, and it doesn’t take Mickey any time at all to get used to that again.

When Ian mentions getting out of the South Side, Mickey shakes his head vehemently. “You need your family,” he says. “And they need you.” It doesn’t stop Ian from bringing it up a few more times, but he gives up when he realizes this time Mickey is not backing down. Mickey is relieved when he notices Ian has dropped the subject. This time, he’s intent on not letting Ian die.

Sometimes, however, life completely ignores our plans.

The last thing Mickey remembers is going to sleep wrapped up in Ian’s arms, so he’s clearly confused when he wakes up and realizes he’s in a hospital bed. Debbie Gallagher, of all people, is the one next to him, and she quickly stands from the armchair where she was sitting listening to music and gets to his side.

“Don’t try to talk just yet,” she warns him. “I’ll get a nurse.”

A fire, they say later. There was a fire. They think it was a cigarette, but it’s hard to tell from the ashes. It seems to have started in Mandy’s room and spread quickly through the old house full of clutter.

He feels his throat closing and tears pricking his eyes even before they tell him. Mandy’s gone. Ian’s gone too. Mickey himself being alive is a miracle, he had third-degree burns and inhaled a lot of smoke, and has been in the hospital for weeks.

It feels like his brain is short-circuiting and he hears screams, barely realizing they’re his own. No, not again, please not again. He can’t have lost Ian again, can have done all he’s done just for it all to collapse on him, and this time take Mandy as well. He wonders what’s the point then, why he was sent back not only once, but twice, if not to save Ian. Most of all, he hurts. His heart feels like it’s being torn into a million tiny pieces and he expects his head to burst open at any minute. Suddenly there are strong arms holding him and a needle in his arm and he passes out.

He wakes up in the same bed, and is confused for a few seconds until he remembers and the pain comes rushing again. He remembers the times he went back in time and wonders what’s taking so long this time. Is it not going to happen again? Is this his destiny? Alone without Ian or Mandy? He might as well have died. But would it be worth it going back again? Or would it be just to see Ian dying yet again? Could he even face that? Probably not. But what if that was the price of seeing Ian and Mandy alive and well again? Could he pay it? Yes, he decides. In a heartbeat.

He doesn’t know if this thing of going back in time can be done deliberately, but he’s sure as hell going to try. He closes his eyes tightly and tries to will his body to just go back, maybe go out of his body or some of that psychic shit, but nothing happens. He focuses harder, hands clenching the sheets, but still nothing happens. Tears fill his eyes again and fall silently onto the pillow. He has to do it! He has to go back! He can’t face a whole life of not having Ian around, he just can’t. He just needs to go back and see that pretty face again, that lopsided smile, the bright red hair, the pale skin adorned with freckles. He needs to hear Ian’s voice telling him stupid jokes, bossing him around when they have sex, whispering nonsense in his ear before they fall asleep. He needs to feel his strong arms around him, protecting him from the cruel world and the people in it. He just needs Ian!

His body starts shaking and he recognizes the feeling, welcoming it. He nearly sighs with relief when once more he feels like his body is expanding and collapsing on itself. He’s going back. He’s going back to Ian.


	8. Chapter 8

He regains consciousness when a fist hits his stomach. He doubles over,one hand clutching his abdomen, his other hand raised in front of him to ward off another attack.

“What the fuck?”

“You pay attention when I’m talking, fucktard!” his father’s booming voice warns him.

He straigthens up, mumbling an apology. He’s in his kitchen, the Milkovich household intact instead of burned to the ground. Mandy, Iggy and Colin are there too, all around their father. Mandy gives him a worried look, but he just shakes his head slightly; he’ll be alright. Terry resumes his yelling about something or another. He’s complaining about something Mickey and his siblings have done wrong, but that’s what he always does anyway, so Mickey doesn’t really focus much. Instead, he notices his surroundings, his clothes, and recognizes suddenly where he is. Or, more exactly, when he is. He remembers this moment. He’d had a blackout then. He realizes all his moments of time-traveling involve the blackouts. So maybe that’s what they were, instances where his mind was neither here, nor there, neither now nor then, and so he lost awareness of his surroundings.

There’s a hurried knock on the front door and he knows instantly who it is.

“I’ll get that,” he offers quickly, before someone can beat him to it.

He opens the door to a very pale and crying Ian, his face still full of freckles, his bangs still falling on his eyes, his coat still too big for his slender body.

“Now’s not a good time,” Mickey says as soon as he sees him.

“I needed to see you,” Ian starts, sounding desperate. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

His father yells something from inside the house and Mickey sighs.

“I’ll meet you at the Kash and Grab as soon as I can, okay?”

Ian looks at him with watery eyes and an expression that tells him he doesn’t believe Mickey.

Mickey sighs, his heart melting for the other boy, who looks so young standing in front of him. He looks around and, upon seeing no one, quickly grabs Ian’s hand and squeezes it.

“I promise.”

He lets go of Ian’s hand and motions for him to leave. “Now go. I’ll see you soon.”

Ian nods and runs down the steps and out through the gate.

 

Mickey arrives at the minimarket about twenty minutes later, the time it takes for Terry to calm down and for Mickey to be sure it’s safe to leave the house. Ian is by himself, sitting behind the counter with his arms crossed and his lower lip between his teeth. He stands up when he sees Mickey, looking relieved.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

Ian moves to stand in front of him, breathing heavily. He looks like he wants to kiss Mickey, but he doesn’t dare to, so Mickey does it for him. Praying that no one will come to the Kash and Grab right now, he pulls Ian closer and kisses him, pressing their lips together insistently. He captures Ian’s swollen lower lip between his own, lightly sucking on it and eliciting a soft moan from the other boy. Ian parts his lips and darts his tongue out to lick Mickey’s lips. They deepen the kiss, mouths fitting together in a mess of tongues and teeth that’s sloppy and hurried and yet feels amazing. It’s a weird angle for Mickey, not having to stand on his toes and bend his head backwards to be able to kiss Ian. His left hand caresses Ian’s head, while the right one roams up his chest and pauses above Ian’s heart, feeling it beat wildly. After a couple of minutes he breaks the kiss, gasping for air, smiling at Ian’s stunned face.

“Feel better?” Mickey asks, still panting.

Ian nods. “Yeah, I… Yeah.” He smirks and palms Mickey’s hardened cock through his pants. “Could feel even better,” he adds, cocking an eyebrow. Mickey closes his eyes and gives in for about two seconds, before he remembers what will happen if they go to the back and fuck. Granted, they could still go and make sure to lock the doors, but that would only make Kash suspicious once he arrives, and right now Mickey would rather not get shot again, thank you very much.

He pushes Ian’s hand away gently.

“Later. It’s the middle of the day, someone could see.”

Ian looks put out. “There’s no one here. And I’ll lock the doors.”

Mickey takes a step back, sighing. “I know, but still. I’ll meet you later, when your shift ends, okay? We can go somewhere else, maybe hang out a bit.”

Ian ponders for a moment. “Will you kiss me again later?”

Mickey laughs, shaking his head. Of course that’s what the redhead would focus on.

Before he can answer, the backdoor opens and Kash comes through, yelling with his fists raised.

“Linda’s pregnant!”

Mickey and Ian take a few steps away from each other and Mickey snorts.

“Congratulations?” he replies sarcastically.

Kash’s expression immediately sobers up and he gives Mickey a scared look.

“What do you want here?”

Mickey smirks and grabs a can of Pringles from the shelf closest to him. He shakes it to signal that that’s what he came for and leaves the store, walking backwards.

“Later, losers!” he shouts, happy with himself. Bullet and Juvie successfully avoided!


	9. Chapter 9

He goes back to the store later, when it’s closing, in the meantime roaming the streets and looking for a place he and Ian can meet up - and, of course, avoiding Terry. The dugouts where they used to meet are all right, but too out in the open for this time of the year. He’d freeze his ass off, quite literally. There’s also the top of those abandoned buildings, but they also aren’t the warmest. Deciding it’ll have to do, he ventures back to his house, finds an old duffel bag and stuffs it with a couple of blankets and pillows, shoving everything inside so it’ll fit. He also adds lube and condoms, since he figures they’ll need it, as well as a flashlight for good measure. In his pockets he fits a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, some weed he found hidden in his own room, a swiss army knife and a handgun, because one can never know when that will be necessary.

Ian grins widely when he sees him, and he can’t help but grin back. He could never resist that smile. He arrives just as he’s closing, and asks him to get some drinks and snacks for them. He even sets a few bills in his hand and Ian runs inside to get some food before closing for the night.

Mickey guides him to the rooftop in silence, and to his credit, Ian doesn’t ask where they’re going, just following Mickey and talking almost non-stop about how his mother is back and how crazy she is, and it tugs at Mickey’s heart knowing that’s how Ian sees himself - will see himself.

They walk quickly, both wanting to reach their destination faster and escape the cold. When Ian sees the wide but empty rooftop, he raises his eyebrows.

“Won’t we be cold?”

“Brought blankets,” Mickey answers, raising his duffel bag to mark his words. “Also brought weed, so I figure we won’t even notice the cold. And if all else fails…” he cocks an eyebrow and bites the corner of his lower lip, “...we can always keep each other warm.”

Ian chuckles and helps Mickey set up a space in a corner where it won’t be too windy. They spread a thicker blanket on the floor, arrange the pillows around them so it’ll be more comfortable, and settle down with the other blanket and their coats around them. Its pretty cozy, actually, if Mickey himself says so.

They smoke the weed side by side in silence, passing it back and forth, fingers lingering in the touch. Ian turns so he’s on his side facing Mickey, supporting his torso on his elbow. He watches as Mickey puffs his cheeks when he inhales, then exhales slowly through his nose, the smoke barely visible in the dim light coming from the street lamps and the moon. He brings his free hand to the rim of Mickey’s sweater and snakes it inside, caressing his stomach. Mickey turns on his side as well, mirroring Ian’s position and holds the blunt close to Ian’s lips, watching with fascination when he takes a drag and blows it in Mickey’s face. Mickey coughs and laughs, kicking him under the covers, delighting in the sound of Ian’s laughter. He finishes the blunt and puts his hand behind Ian’s head, bringing his face closer. Ian takes the hint and parts his lips so that Mickey can blow the last of the smoke inside it.

The sexual tension is nearly palpable and it doesn’t take long for their clothes to come flying off and for Ian to be inside Mickey. It feels familiar and at the same time different and Mickey nearly sobs with relief. Ian starts rocking his hips lazily and Mickey meets his movements thrust for thrust, both groaning deeply into the night. Mickey rakes his fingers down Ian’s back and digs his nail onto his ass and Ian nearly howls in appreciation, his hips stuttering and his movements becoming faster and more erratic. He kisses and bites at Mickey’s neck and the older boy arches his back, moaning loudly at the feeling of Ian hitting his prostate repeatedly.  

“Fuck. Ian.” His grunts the words, and Ian replies with a chain of murmured “Mickey” and “Mick” and “Oh, god”s. He grabs Mickey’s erection and starts jerking him off with hurried and vigorous moves, and it’s not long before Mickey is shooting his load onto Ian’s hand and biting his shoulder to muffle his moans. Ian is right behind him, filling the condom as he collapses on top of Mickey.

Ian rolls off of him and they remain in silence as they catch their breaths.

The chilly air seeping through the blanket starts making him cold, so Mickey snuggles closer to Ian, tangling their limbs. Ian seems glad for the opportunity, sighing softly as buries his face in the curve of Mickey’s neck.

They both burst out laughing when Ian’s stomach rumbles loudly. They grab their snacks and eat their way through their munchies, kissing and exchanging caresses under the blanket, and laughing uncontrollably from time to time, for no apparent reason. Mickey guesses they’re just that happy.

“Thanks,” Ian says, in one of the times Mickey’s got his mouth full.

“Wha fo?” Mickey asks, mouth full of Pringles.

“For today. For coming to see me. For this sort of picnic. For the sex. I needed it. All of it. Thanks for understanding.”

Old Mickey would have been uncomfortable with the sudden declaration and would have just told Ian to fuck off. But then again, old Mickey wouldn’t even have gone through all this trouble, would have been scared shitless of showing affection, scared of being thought weak, scared of being hurt.

But he’s not that scared little boy anymore. He’s grown and he’s learned and he knows that love makes you stronger. And it’s because of Ian that he knows that.

So new Mickey pulls his boyfriend closer and kisses him tenderly, and holds him and tells him everything will be all  right. Because it will be. He’ll make damn sure of that.

 

He starts going to the Kash and Grab nearly every day, picking up Ian on his way out so that they can go somewhere secluded, most of the times the rooftop. They hang out and they talk and, of course, they have sex. And of course, their escapades don’t go unnoticed by everyone.

It’s less than two weeks later that they are surprised by a very angry looking Kash as they’re about to leave the store. Ian has closed everything up and Mickey met him in the back alley, but Kash, who is not supposed to be there that night, shows up just in time to see Ian pinch Mickey’s ass and Mickey give him a playful headlock.

“So it’s him then.”

Both boys jump apart, surprised by the fact that they weren’t alone. Kash is standing in front of them, half hidden in the shadows, scowling at them.

“Kash,” Ian starts, unsure of what to say. “Why are you here? You asked me to close the store by myself.”

“I wanted to see who you were leaving with almost every night, wanted to know who you’ve been fucking behind my back.”

“Woah, no. Not behind your back. I ended it with you, remember?”

“Yeah, and now I know why. Because of this piece of shit!”

Mickey balls his fists and lurches forward, but Ian puts a hand on his chest.

“You need to shut the fuck up, man!” Mickey snarls. The last thing he needs right now is a confrontation with Kash or, worse yet, with Terry. He knows eventually he’ll come out to his father, but he knows he has to make sure Ian’s okay first.

“Really, Ian?” Kash goes on, undeterred by Mickey’s threats. “This dirty thief? After all I did for you, all I gave you, this is how you repay me? You ungrateful…” Kash stops mid-sentence and raises his arm. Neither Mickey nor Ian had noticed the gun in his hand, the gun that is now pointed at Ian.

Mickey doesn’t even think about it. He pushes Ian back and stands in front of him, and he barely registers the sharp sound of the gunshot amidst the searing pain that rips through his chest. He hears Ian’s scream and hears him call his name, and as everything fades to black, all he can think is that at least Ian’s safe.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Mickey feels something poking his back and groans. Whoever’s trying to wake him up by poking him can go fuck themselves.

Wait. Why isn’t he dead? He was shot, he was sure he’d die, so what the fuck happened?

He gets poked again and rubs his eyes, turning around to face the person trying to wake him up. He freezes when he sees the red bangs and the green eyes.

“Ian?”

“I want the gun back, Mickey!”

“I… what?”

“The gun!”

He stares at the pale and thin boy in front of him, at the tire iron in his hand, at the walls of his bedroom filled with posters and drawings and at his own old worn out clothes. He remembers this moment, remembers it all too vividly. The moment when everything changed. The moment when he and Ian became more than just acquaintances, the moment when Ian Gallagher started to make his way into his heart.

He remains unmoving, staring at Ian as memories of everything he and Ian have been through, in all the different lives they’ve lived, come to his mind. They say when you’re about to die a movie of your life passes before your eyes. Maybe his is just a little late.

He wonders what would happen if he just gave Ian the gun back. Maybe he’ll leave and never talk to Mickey again. And he and Mickey won’t love each other, but Mickey also won’t die because Kash got jealous, and Ian won’t die in a fire or kill himself because Mickey couldn’t take care of him. Maybe Ian has a real chance of being happy, if he and Mickey never get started. And Mickey will do anything for Ian’s happiness, even if that includes his own sorrow. Because Mickey will never be happy without Ian, but he also can’t be happy knowing Ian’s not okay. So maybe it’s better they never get started.

“Give me the gun back, Mickey!” Ian yells once more, when Mickey doesn’t move.

Mickey nods. “All right.” He gets the gun from the first drawer of his nightstand, but before he gives it back, he has another idea. “I don’t want you around Mandy, though.” He knows that if Ian and Mandy stay friends, Ian will be around a lot, and maybe all of it will be for nothing.

“Mandy’s my girlfriend.”

Mickey scoffs at the blatant lie. “Break up with her. I don’t want you - I don’t want a Gallagher - dating my sister. Break up with her or next time I won’t just get the gun, I’ll make sure to use it in that towelhead pussy you call a boss, and on you as well.”

Ian frowns, clearly confused by Mickey’s demands, but nods. “Ok, I’ll do that.” Mickey throws the gun on the end of the bed and Ian reaches out to get it, eyes never leaving Mickey, suspicious of Mickey’s every move. Once Ian has the gun tucked away in his waistband, he raises his chin and makes a demand of his own. “I’ll break up with Mandy, but I don’t want you coming to steal from the Kash and Grab anymore. Next time it won’t be Kash by himself there. I’ll be there, and I know how to use this gun, and you can be sure I will. Got it?”

Mickey suppresses a smile. Ian looks so cute, trying to act tough, and he wants to laugh at his bravado. He only nods, however. No, he won’t be going to the Kash and Grab again. No, he won’t be seeing Ian again. No, they’ll never have a life together. When Ian leaves, seeming satisfied with himself, Mickey allows himself to lie back onto the bed and hide his face on the pillow while tears stream down his cheeks. He willingly gave up his own happiness for Ian’s, and he knows it’s for the best, he knows it’s the only way to keep Ian safe, but he can’t quiet down his own heart or the sobs that rip through his body.

When his father goes through his room to go to the bathroom some minutes later, he pretends to be asleep. He tries to control his breathing and calm down his mind. He needs a plan, a way out. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that he can and deserves to be happy. If he can’t have Ian, he has no reason to stick around. And so he begins to plot.

 

Mickey doesn’t tell anyone about his plan. He saves some money when he can, from scams and drug deals and some runs with his dad. Terry gets most to himself, but Mickey always manages to hide some. He has his own deals on the side as well, so pretty soon he has some money set aside. It’s not much, but enough for bus tickets out of this place for him and Mandy, for some food and to pay for a cheap motel for a couple of weeks. He figures he can find a way to make some money before that.

So one day when he and Mandy are alone in the house, he lets her in on it. She freaks out, yelling at him for making plans for her, but she wants out, of course she does. Their family is shitty at best, she has no friends now that Ian has stopped talking to her (Mickey doesn’t know at what pretense, but he’s glad for it), and no prospective of life. Mandy, just like Mickey, has no reason to miss South Side Chicago.

They leave on a Tuesday morning, backpacks filled with the few belongings they have and heads filled with dreams. Mickey has has some fake IDs made for them, since they’re both still underage. If it also makes it easier for them to hide from Terry, that’s a bonus. The IDs are well done at that, and Mickey actually paid a lot for them, but they’re worth it. According to the cards, they’re called Michael Maguire and Amanda Maguire, brother and sister, 19 and 18 years old, and they’re from Philly.

It isn’t easy, of course not, but neither of them are afraid of working hard and they’ve both been through so much that being hungry from time to time or even spending a couple of nights on the curb is not the end of the world. They have faith that things will get better, that they didn’t leave the South Side for this, and, eventually, they do.

And so it is that eight years later Mickey finds himself sitting on a bench in Central Park during his lunch break and marvelling at the road that brought him here. He’s been through hell and back, but he made it. He works for a logistics company and is just shy of getting a Business degree. Mandy is an aspiring actress, working as a waitress and fulfilling the cliché while she waits for her big break. They share an apartment in Queens and live as peacefully as possible when you’re roommates with your sibling.

He admires the children playing in the grass, the artists playing for a handful of coins and the tourists walking around in large groups and taking pictures of everything.

“Excuse me,” someone says next to him, waking him up from his reverie. He looks up, still a bit distracted, and sees green eyes he could never forget. There, right in front of him, is Ian Gallagher. Ian fucking Gallagher, all tall and built and looking older and more handsome than Mickey has ever seen him, wearing jeans and a green T-shirt that accentuates the color of his eyes, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, standing right in front of Mickey in the middle of fucking New York City!

Mickey blinks a couple times, shocked. It can’t be. There’s no way. No fucking way.

“This is going to sound weird, but…” Ian starts, seeming insecure. “Do I know you?”

There it is, the fork in the road again. If he says no and walks away he won’t see Ian again, which sucks, but then again it was the plan all along, and he knows Ian will be safer. If he says yes, it might lead to Ian being hurt, and that’s something Mickey promised himself he’d never do again.

“No,” he answers quickly, standing up.

“Are you sure? You look very familiar.”

“I have no idea who you are, dude,” he answers rudely, before turning on his heels and leaving with fast steps, his heart threatening to explode.


	11. Chapter 11

 

He thinks about Ian the whole day long, about how wonderful it felt to see him again and know he’s alright, wondering what he’s doing, if he’s happy, if he is with someone (he can’t help the jealousy the emerges at that thought). He thinks about going online and searching for his name to get some answers, but manages to refrain himself. He doesn’t want to know. Well, not true, he wants to know, but he can’t. He buries himself in work and tries to keep thoughts of red hair and green eyes and a luminescent smile out of his mind.

He’s late for work the next day, and as he rushes around the corner, he runs straight into a tall body, making the person in front of him spill a hot cup of coffee over Mickey’s shirt.

“Shit!”

“Oh, my god, I’m… Mickey?”

Mickey looks up and freezes as he notices Ian is the one he bumped into. It just feels absurd, that he’s never even known Ian was in New York, and now he’s run into him in two consecutive days.

“I recognized you yesterday,” Ian clarifies. “Mickey Milkovich, right? It just took me a while to remember, and then you were already gone. I’m Ian Gallagher. I used to be friends with Mandy - well, not for long.”

“I remember,” Mickey answers, before he can stop himself. “I gotta go.”

“No, wait!” Ian holds his arm as he tries to pass by him and it’s like there’s an electric discharge where they touch, but Ian doesn’t let go. They stare at each other, and Mickey lets himself get lost in those eyes. He doesn’t miss, however, the way Ian’s stare flickers to his lips and back.

“I dreamt about you,” Ian whispers, and Mickey’s eyes widen with shock.

Ian quickly withdraws his hand. “I mean… Shit, your shirt! Let me… I don’t know, pay for the drycleaning.”

Mickey shakes his head. “It’s fine, I have another one at work. I really gotta go.”

“Oh. Could we…” Ian hesitates and Mickey notices that his cheeks go pink. “Could we grab a cup of coffee sometime? Or something stronger, maybe?”

Mickey swears the universe is testing him. Deciding to end this conversation once and for all, he shakes his head, murmuring an apology and leaving quickly before he can do something stupid, like turn around and kiss Ian, or hug him and never letting go, or tell him that he went back in time to save the redhead. Nope. Terrible idea.

 

He spends the rest of the day and the next obsessively thinking about Ian, which is why he agrees to let Mandy drag him to a party in one of her friends’ apartments. Mandy has tons of friends and they’re always throwing get togethers, to which Mickey usually refuses to go. They’re just not his style. He enjoys the quietude of his home, ditching it only for a bar occasionally, but he thinks this time the party might help him think about something else. Besides, there’s always a gay guy looking for a hook up at the parties Mandy goes to, and Mickey figures there’s no better way to forget about Ian.

He was definitely, definitely not expecting to run into Ian yet again there. Really, universe? You suck!

“Look who I ran into!” Mandy shouts excitedly, bringing Ian by the hand. “It’s Ian Gallagher! From Chicago! Do you remember him? Ian Gallagher! From Chicago!”

Mickey sighs. Mandy has clearly had too much to drink already. Ian seems to find it amusing, laughing at her excitement. He sobers up a little when his eyes meet Mickey’s, but there’s still a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he says, voice sounding like honey to Mickey’s years.

“Hi,” Mickey replies, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“What a coincidence, huh? If you believe in coincidences, of course.”

“You don’t?” His mind is screaming at him to not to say anything else, but Mickey’s getting tired of being a good boy. He should know better, of course, but he misses Ian too much, and now he’s here, right in front of him, after years apart, after Mickey was sure he’d never see Ian again. So fuck it, he’ll allow himself five minutes of conversation. Just five.

“He’s gay!” Mandy shouts, pointing at her brother.

“Mandy, what the fuck?!” he yells at his sister, while Ian doubles over himself laughing.

“It’s okay!” she replies, clearly missing the point. “Ian’s gay too. Are you single?” she asks then, turning back to the taller man.

“Mandy! Get out of here!”

“Alright, alright.” Mandy raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

She follows one of her friends to the other side of the room and Mickey rolls his eyes. Fucking Mandy.

“I’m sorry about that.”

Ian just laughs. “It’s okay. She’s…”

“Drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk.”

“And crazy.”

“Well… Do you want to get out of here?”

Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

Ian blushes crimson. “I mean. Do you want to go to my bedroom to talk a bit? I mean, shit! Not like that, just… This is my apartment, and that,” he points to a closed door further down the hallway, “ is my bedroom. I just… I want to tell you something, and it’s too noisy here.”

“Tell me what?” Mickey asks, suspicious. The idea of going to a bedroom alone with Ian sounds wonderful and terrible at the same time. As much as he’d love to spend more time with Ian, and alone time at that, he’s sure he’ll end up doing something stupid. Like, really stupid.

“It’s… It’s kind of weird, actually. But I feel like it’s important. I can’t quite explain… Do you mind? It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Finding no way out, Mickey nods, feeling immediately rewarded by the large smile Ian gives him. Ian leads him through the crowd of people and into the relative quiet of his bedroom. He toes off his shoes and sits cross-legged in the middle of the large bed, motioning for Mickey to sit beside him, which he does.

“So?”

Ian bites his lower lip and looks down, playing with the hem of his jeans.

“This is going to sound super creepy, but… I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

Mickey can already feel his heart beating faster and his hands getting sweaty.

“Actually,” Ian continues, “I’ve been dreaming about you.” He looks up again, smiling shyly. “Sorry, I know that’s weird. It’s just… In the last couple nights, since I saw you at the park, I dreamed about you. They were weird dreams, that didn’t make any sense, but at the same time they felt so real.”

Mickey can only stare at him, not trusting his ability to talk at the moment, considering he can barely think.

“Sorry, I’m creeping you out, aren’t I? It just… I don’t know, it felt like something I should tell you. It’s stupid, really. Like I said, they don’t even make sense. In the first one we were living together in Cleveland. Who the fuck lives in Cleveland?”

Mickey’s head is reeling and he goes into such a shock he’s sure he’s turned even paler than usual, but Ian doesn’t seem to have noticed, absorbed in his own story.

“And then you got shot in the ass. It was just absurd. And last night I dreamt that…” He trails off, blushing again. “We were… hum… We were having a picnic, sort of. Except it was on a rooftop in the middle of the night and it was freezing cold outside. And then suddenly it was hot, very hot, and I couldn’t see, couldn’t breath, and then I woke up.”

He looks up again and Mickey knows he’s staring at Ian dumbfounded, but of course he also knows Ian has no clue why.

“Sorry. They’re just bizarre, I know, but…”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as Mickey leans over and presses their lips together.

Ian tastes of chips, and he smells of cologne, and he feels like coming home after a long time away, like being safe inside your bedroom after being chased by demons, like feeling warm after almost freezing over. His arms encircle Ian’s shoulders and he feels Ian’s hands cupping his face.

Memories of everything they’d been through together flood through him and an enormous sense of relief washes over him. Ian’s found him again. Ian’s come back to him.

Ian breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Mickey’s.

“They were not dreams, were they?” he whispers.

“No.”

“What were they?”

“Memories.” Reason says he shouldn’t tell Ian about the time traveling, shouldn’t tell anyone really, but his heart is telling him it’s time. Ian seems to comprehend that too. He nods.

“I thought so. How?”

“I don’t know.”

“I died?”

“Yes,” Mickey answers, voice hoarse as tears begin to fall from his eyes.

Ian wipes them away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to leave you.”

Mickey’s body shakes with the force of his sobs. Ian pulls him nearer until Mickey is pretty much sitting on his lap and holds him close.

“I’m not leaving you again, Mickey. I found you, and I’m not leaving you.”

Mickey nods, embracing Ian’s waist tightly. It feels good, right. It feels like all the pieces fit together and that he’s finally where he was always meant to be. He can only pray this time it’s forever.


	12. Epilogue

Mickey should have known forever was too much to wish for. But he guesses sixty-three years are the next best thing.

He’s lying in his bed, having refused to go to the hospital, even though he knew he was dying. He figured what was the point anyway? His time on earth was counted, and he’d much rather spend his last breathing moments next to the love of his life.

They’ve had a good life together, he and Ian. They’ve built a family, the most beautiful family he could ever have wished for, and they’ve been happier than he’d ever dreamed possible. They had made it work, and Mickey had loved every second of it. Ian was what had made Mickey’s life worth it.

“Sorry,” he says in a raspy voice to his husband who’s sitting beside him on the bed. His hair, as Mickey’s own, has faded to white, and there are wrinkles etched deeply into his face, especially around his mouth, from the uncountable smiles he’d given Mickey. “Looks like I won’t be making it into forever.”

Ian caresses his face softly. “Are you kidding? I’m finding you in the afterlife. You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“I’d never want to.”

And as he drifts off into his final sleep, he thanks the universe for giving him so many chances at making it right. And he had.

He looks up at Ian and smiles one last time. He has definitely made it all right.


End file.
